


Along the way

by Oh_well_its_me



Series: Reality: gone wrong (that's how it usually is) [2]
Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Abduction, Crossdressing, Dissociation, F/M, Force-Feeding, Homelessness, I'm so sorry for this, Logic narrator uses isn't suppoused to be agreeable at all times so uh, M/M, Malnutrition, Objectification, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Psychological Trauma, Scars, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Trust Issues, Unreliable Narrator, and other stuff that comes with keeping someone against their will like, poor ouma, rape is heavily implied to have taken place in the past multiple times but is not described
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-03
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2019-08-14 16:38:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 2,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16496273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oh_well_its_me/pseuds/Oh_well_its_me
Summary: Meantime, in Ouma's head:Takes place at the same time as Coming Back.Orginally titled Came Inside, suppoused to be all dark, but now it's everything of Ouma's pov





	1. Rope

A rope. This was suppoused to be his way out and yet it let him down just like everything else. Quite literally as he fell to the ground when it broke under his weight. It was either sad or funny how he failed at everything he tried to do. It depended on the perspective and he had a chance to look up from the ground level now. He didn't saw an answer to this though, what he did saw was another human being right in front of him.

Nothing better than being seen in your most vulnerable moment. Naturally, he got scared at first, it was common for people who approached him to have bad intentions, but he realized he didn't care anymore. He didn't intend to stay alive for long anyway, so it didn't matter what happened. If he was to get attacked or kidnapped again, he wouldn't mind that at all.

He haven't hesitated while agreeing to go with the men who offered him help. Even if it was help with his apparently wounded now leg, not killing himself and that guy looked suspiciously similar to someone he used to know, he could just roll with it. 


	2. Clothes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How many chapters can I make out of one day? I'm planning to make it 5, but we'll see. (it's not going to end on this anyway, don't worry) Now, it's only the second chapter, time to take the clothes off (except - not really).

He hated getting undressed. It was something he expected to do sooner or later when he entered someone else's house, a part he wanted to get over with as soon as possible. Since he was really in a bad mood that day, instead of waiting on what was going to happen he just asked when he was suppoused to start undressing.

It was past seven, so he didn't had to worry about remembering anything next day. Being distracted by getting fucked into the mattres would be much preferred by him, instead of awkwardly standing in the bedroom like he didn't knew why he was here. He really thought he knew, but reaction he got made him change his mind.

A man; who must have been the best Saihara cosplayer he ever seen, even with normal clothes instead of uniform designed by the Team Danganronpa and massively sold along other merch; looked at him as if hurt by the question. For a moment it seemed like he was going to respond, but then all he did was change the subject by asking if he wanted to take a bath. Kokichi agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ouma: When should I start taking my clothes off?  
> Saihara: *thinking intensifies*  
> Saihara: Do you want to take a bath?  
> Smooth, Saihara, smooth.


	3. Bath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ouma takes a relaxing bath, yeah, that's totally what it is, but that's a lie, actual summary sounds more like: yikes.

He lets the stranger prepare a bath for him. He doesn't care. He doesn't even know what he is suppoused to not care about, he just starts dissociating while watching the water fill the bathtub. The white of the tiles seems to swallow and become one with the white of his skin and then the white is pink and this certain shade of pink makes him sick. This much of it could only mean it was him, he was a puddle of pink, that was his final form, which was almost funny with how intimidating he tried to be all his life, to end up this unthreatening, this... soft. Soft material was laid in his hands. He had hands, he was a human person in a bathroom, being given clothes to change after he takes a bath, which he is capable of doing, he must be, because he said he would do it and he can't back out of it now. He also should suggest something sexual, since his host is so nice, that's what they always want when they take him home, this one probably just doesn't know how to go about his, even if he looks a bit too good to be a virgin.

He had the men help him take his pants off saying that he couldn't do it himself with his leg being injured, which by the way was not that far from the truth. Then he also complained about having to wash his back by himself if he was left alone, but "Saihara" left anyways. He used preparing dinner as a excuse to do so and that was a good excuse, because Ouma hadn't had a chance to eat for two days in a row and he wouldn't dare stop him now.

With nothing better to do he clumsily got in the bathtub, failing attempt not to lean on his right leg. His ankle was most likely sprained and putting weight on it hurt as fuck. After getting in the water he relaxed for a moment, it was warm and comforting. Thanks to the bubbles he couldn't see himself, he appreciated it. When the scars he gained over the years weren't visible he could pretend they weren't there, that his skin could be cleaned and he would be fresh after this. But that was impossible, he rubbed and rubbed at them with a sponge and the filth wouldn't come off, burned into his very soul. Perhaps if he got fully underwater and didn't leave for long enough it would cleanse him properly. He didn't gave in to the urge, but only because he didn't want to cause trouble to the host, who went out of his way to help him, instead of just using him when he could, after years on the streets Ouma knew not everyone would do that. Yeah, drowning himself in someone else's house would be a very rude thing to do.


	4. Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yes, he's still in the bathroom in this chapter, so much progress, wow  
> also Karen, dear Karen, die Karen, her name isn't even Karen, Karen could be hands only, but she's got a whole body, what for?

Being alone in a bathroom feels weird. Like something that belonged in the past and shouldn't be possible in the present. Being able to simply do things on his own wasn't something he expected to come back to, it was lost on him when "Karen" took him in, but here he was. Alone. Not being treated like an infant. Having privacy. He washed, dried off and got dressed all by himself and it was good, but unbelievable at the same time, his mind just couldn't process it.

No Karen, no hands controlling the situation. Hands always on him or close to him. Hands feeding him. Hands washing him. Hands holding a towel and drying him off, gently as if he was made from porcelain. Hands dressing him up and the same hands undressing him. Hands holding him down. Hands holding him in place, so he couldn't run. Hands where he didn't want them, touching more and more, maybe he really was a porcelain doll for her to play with. Hands tying ropes. Hands untying ropes to do it all again. Hands reaching out to grab him when he run. Hands shooting photos and hands sticking them to the cork board with little descriptions or dates. All of the photos were of him. Hands sewing costumes for them to play. Hands styling his hair to look like in the game. Hands. Hands. Hands. None. No one was there.

No one around him. No one who would want to put their hands on him at the moment. He was save. Alone was save. He wasn't an object when he was the only person in the room. It felt... freeing? He was like child given some freedom for the first time in a long time, excited to do those things independently. It was a little bit worrying how this "Saihara" was letting him do things freely now, though. He wasn't sure if he could safely stay the night. Acting this nice could be a trap. It would be best to talk with him for a bit during the promised dinner to check the grounds. Also stay wary of the food. With that thought he left the bathroom.


	5. Table

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Did you know that uhhhhhh "put the coffee on the table" is a phrase used in Polish to describe being straightforward about something/breaking the news  
> Just a fun fact, that doesn't matter and probably is a mistake in at least one way.  
> Or is it?

Strange. It felt strange. Being in a house you don't know lay out of always feels strange, more so if you don't know the people in it very well. For Ouma who had a lot of unpleasant experience it was supernatural-level of strange to leave the bathroom and walk around on his own. "Saihara" was finishing preparing dinner just like he said he would, already setting the table... Huh, table. The thing about tables is that they're terrible to hide under when you want to actually stay hidden and harsh to get fucked on, maybe even worse than the floor. The worst part were the table conversations. Yes, the talking, normal people usually wanted to held some sort of small talk at least while sharing a meal and he absolutly hated it. He didn't wanted to talk. It was tiring, for past few months he has been too tired to come up with any good lies. He was always tired and thinking about what to say was such a chore. Honestly, he was better the way the machine fucked him up, so not honest. Maybe he should get "fixed" by it again, people probably would just fuck him up again their way, but whatever.

Oh, food. He was starving, but who's to say it isn't drugged? And chopsticks, he almost forgot how to use them. Either having no utensils or a plastic fork or somebody feeding him, it was possible for him to forget. "Saihara" looked nervous, but more in a way "I don't know how to put it into words" than "waiting for it to kick in", so he decided to eat. Slowly and not too much, so his stomach can keep it. He has learnt to have this habit the hard way. Half done with the plate he declared that he wants to sleep now. It was risky to be demanding, but some people liked it, it was suppoused to be in character for him after all. And well, he was sleepy, not in a suspicious way, but like in a way that a person who's full is. "Saihara" tried to argue and say that he has a lot to say to him, but then changed his mind and said that it might be better to talk it out in the morning. He, himself could have said something along the lines "Yeah, it would be a waste of breath to tell me anything important now, I wouldn't remember anyway. Just a warning, I might freak out when I wake up." Maybe he said that and maybe this "Saihara" had a funny reaction to this confusing warning, but maybe he just thought about doing so and they were going to have a nice surprise next morning, when he's not going to remember shit.


	6. New Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> moved from Coming Back after the change ( and so are going to be others from Ouma's pov when their time comes)

Kokichi woke up and regrets filled his head just as fast as pain reached his conciousness. He died, right? It would be better if he did. Would the hydraulic press be the end of him, he wouldn’t need to go trough it every morning. Waking up and realising that Danganronpa is over, but not for him. In his head deaths keep going on a loop, story repeated everyday.

A lot of people recognised him and hated him. He couldn’t get a job. All because he was that villain who enjoyed the killing game. That’s how they saw him. Stupid people who didn’t look deep enough to see that what he done was to stop killing game too. Damn, he hated murders and things he did in stimulation made him hate himself even more.

Uneployment pushed him into the worst environment possible. His fans. Those were mostly obsessive, creepy and extremely horny for him. Thanks to them he lived life of a hobo. Even this morning he was is someone’s bed. It was way too comfortable to be his usual bench in the park. Considering he wasn’t tied or bleeding from his ass, he met someone more decent this time. Maybe this kind of person who’ll let him use shower and they’ll eat breakfast together before he goes, acting like he didn’t notice stranger taking pictrues of him eating from other side of the table everytime he looked in diffrent direction and believing it’s subtle. That was uncomfortable, but a lot better then being tied and feed by a person who isn’t willing to let him go away, which have happened before. It’s a miracle he managed to run away from that fangirl after only two months.

The pain from routine resurrection started to fade away, pressure was leaving him for another day. It was bad to don’t remember who he went to bed with. At the same time it was good to don’t remember what he was doing with that person. So not being able to remember late P.M.'s of any day after losing in killing game was both a blessing and a curse.

Noticing that besides sheets, there are clothes on him was a weird feeling. Last time when he had both a bed and pyjamas was in game. Someone was really nice for him and gave him their clothes for a sleepwear. Treating him this humanly was abnormal. He didn’t deserved this. It was wrong to be this good to him. He should be punished for what he have done. The thought of punishment made him reach for his arm and scratch where bruises were visible. Death is what he deserved, he knew that. Why did he survive his death? Why wasn’t it real?

Rumbling in his stomach put a pause to intrusive thoughts, only for a second. He was starving. Good. The smell of freshly made scrambled eggs was causing him pain trought hunger pangs and that was what he should feel. Footsteps gave him a little panic attack, when he realised that he’s about to confront a person while in this state of mind. Then he saw his beloved Saihara-chan and started to cry.

This couldn’t be real.  
This never was real.


	7. Believe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Could he believe it? Maybe it was his mind playing a trick on him.

It was a lie. It wasn’t Shuichi. It couldn’t possibly be Shuichi, because he hated him and people who hated him didn’t took him home. Another dressed up creep. Cross dressed fangirls, who wanted to role play their OTP from the game were the worst. At least Saihara was pretty and this person’s cosplay was on point. Seeing Momota like that was always unpleasant, besides his ugliness and idiocy, the sight of space idiot was a reminder of his last moments and failure. Feeling of the press crushing his body wasn’t a turn on. The fact that role players were usually fujoshi didn’t matter as he wasn’t expected to be attracted to the person fucking him. It didn't matter if he enjoyed it, but that's probably a good thing, because he didn't.

‘Shuichi’ stood in a doorframe with an anxious expression, holding a tray with food. Guess, he could be nice to his host.

-Good Morniiing, Saihara-chan! I always knew you’d make a great hause wife, making me a breakfast to bed - oh, so lovely!

-G-good morning, Ouma-kun. There’s no place for jokes like that, I brought you breakfast, because your leg is injured and it’s better for you to stay in bed than going to the kitchen.

-I can’t walk?!

-Calm down. You can, but better don’t do that, you might make things worse. I already called a doctor and he’s going to come for a home visit in the afternoon.

So he was staying there. Oh no, please no. He needs to leave. Where would he go? Anywhere, on the streets, just go, no more prison, please.

-Um, you don’t need help eating, right? Your hands are fine.

-Eeh! You’re not going to feed me?

-No, I’m already helping you as much as morals require. Not planning on becoming your slave.

~~Who’s becoming a slave here? Who are you? Why am I here?~~

-Okie-dokie, thanks for the food.

He said like a liar he was. If he was being honest, he’d never want to be feed, not remembering how Karen did it. Karen probably wasn’t even Karen, but he didn’t know her real name and he didn’t wanted to know. Would it change anything if he stopped lying right now? It was too late to repair anything. His sanity was long gone.

He didn’t believe it was a real Saihara, but he smiled like a real one, so he smiled back at him, probably looking stupid with his mouth full.  
When he finished eating ‘Shuichi’ started talking and he had to admit that it was a good imitation of his voice.

-I’d like to say that everyone, but huh, half of the class was worried when you disappeared after getting out of Neo World Program. It was an accident that I found you yesterday and I’d preffer to see you in better state then that, but I’m glad that I did. Most of us gained to understand your reasons and forgave you…

-Stop lying like that! I hate lies! Lies, lies, lies, you’re not real! It can’t be the truth!

-I’m going to prove you that it is the truth, just give me a moment.


End file.
